Dictatorship
by BoredomIsAnUnderstatement
Summary: Master/Apprentice? For Tinclay: A regular morning for Slade and Robin when the Boy Wonder discovers something about their "relationship".


Sometimes, when I wake up, I forget I live in this hell-hole. Everything is smooth bliss, all pillows and blankets and warmth. But then I open my eyes. I see the reflection of my life so far before me. I remember the things he's done to me, done to my friends.

And I scream.

In anger, in pain, in fear, in sadness...

How can anybody make a person want to kill and die in the same instant as Slade makes me? I want to rip his heart out through his esophagus, assuming he has a heart at all; I want to tear my mind apart to forget the people I've lost and the things I've seen – the things I've done!

He rolls over behind me, reaches around, and covers my mouth with his hand to get me to shut up. I choke back sobs and claw at his fingers: I don't care if he hears me scream, but he _can't_ see me cry. If he does, he wins.

As if he hasn't already.

"Instead of waking me up, why don't you put that throat of yours to good use?" His tired, annoyed hiss dances across my skin, making me shiver. I don't have to ask what he means by this. My body is moving of its own accord. I've gotten too used to his demands, understanding too well the consequences of disobedience.

I crawl southward to sit between his thighs, and his palm moves from my face to my hair, nails scraping against my scalp. Immediately, I stop traveling over the sheets. I look up and glare at him until he takes his hand away with a roll of his eye. He knows my rules: I'll do whatever he wants me to do to him, but he can't touch me while I do it. I have to do it in my own time my own way, without his physical encouragement. I have to feel some amount of will in my actions, as sick as that may seem.

As my lips and teeth move against him, making him grunt with "approval," I find that I can't help myself. I grin with satisfaction. He may threaten me, may torture me, may kill the ones I love, but I am the one who controls _him._ Without me, he wouldn't be half the man he is. He has me on a leash, but I've got him by the balls (literally, I'm loathe to admit).

So you know what?

You can kiss my ass, Slade.

_I_ win.

Despite all that you've taken – stolen – from me...

I. Still. Win.

Good luck trying to control me now that I've realized this, bitch. You can try forcing yourself on me, in me, when I refuse, but I know you. You don't like it much unless it's given willingly (which I never understood). And you know me_._ I'm not exactly easy to rape.

Like I said before: Good luck.

* * *

For perhaps the seventh time this year, I awaken to Robin screaming. I turn to sneer at the ceiling as if I'm looking at the face of God: _'You enjoy tormenting me, don't you?'_ I think. What an ass.

That's not to say that I don't deserve every last bit of grief that I get, of course, but still: It's annoying to say the least.

Finally, I get to the point where I can't stand to hear him anymore, so I do what I must. I turn around, grip his face – and with any luck, his damn mouth – and growl as meaningfully as I can, "Instead of waking me up, why don't you put that throat of yours to good use?"

It's not much of a threat, or even a pick-up line to be honest, but it'll do for now. It has to be four in the morning and he knows I'm not exactly my brightest at this hour after almost two weeks of little-to-no sleep. Either way, he gets the point and does what I suggest without much hassle. I do get The Look, though, when I put my hand in his hair to guide him. Not the best thing to do with a pissed off Robin. I remove it and look back up at God. _'Really? Did you really HAVE_ _to remind him of his Conditions and Criteria for Coitus at four o'clock in the damn morning? I officially hate you.'_

I swear I can hear Him reply with, "You can kiss my ass, Slade."

Again, what an ass.

* * *

**A.N.:**** I don't remember when exactly I wrote this, but it was a LONG time ago – I want to say something like late 2010, early 2011. For some reason, this little drabble reminded me of ****Tinclay**** and her love of Slade and Robin's not-so-loving relationship with each other. ****Tinclay**** has been and always will be the author I turn to when I'm in those "dom-fest" type of moods, so this fic (originally unintentionally) goes out to her. You can take this as a piece of dominance-play or a piece humor, but it's probably more of a "day in the life" of Slade and Robin together. Or all of the above, I don't really care. Anyway, I hope this fits your tastes and you enjoyed it – or at least tried to read it, ha!**

**P.S.: Sorry for the OOC!Slade. This was done before I really figured out how to write him, and I didn't feel like redoing it.  
**


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